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Chapter 4 Holding Jez against his side, Ion allowed Ki to lead the way. He still held the tiny gun in his hand, stretching his arm to its full length, looking more like a warrior than a scared, sixteen-year-old kid. Ki was right: he was their only chance of survival. Down the stairs they crept. Into the main ground room, where they had been playing football only two hours ago. They descended down into the basement. The floor was a mess. Blood littered the walls, a pool was found in the kitchen doorway. Slowly, cautiously, the three boys kicked at the door, knocking it open with a bang. Ki shouted out roughly, his finger almost squeezing down against the stiff trigger. Screams answered his cry. Voices. Human voices. All were not dead. Around the table, which had obviously been overthrown in the attack and had been recently picked back up, stood the survivors. A quick scan of the room and count of the heads told them that three had been lost. Ion's eyes tore desperately through the crowd. Had his one friend outside of Ki and Jez been slain? But to his relief he saw that Fin still stood. She gave him a small smile and he nodded his head. No great embraces or kisses were needed. Friends they were, partners in the dark, but nothing more. They understood how the world worked: they would die soon. Attachments were unhealthy. The ones who had been taken had been the pretty Core; Deima's best friend, which explained why the woman was weeping. Hun, the forty-year-old woman who had been useless at football, was also missing. The final loss was Ed, the dark-skinned man who had been a friend to all of the boys. "Where have you been?" Amma barked. "We thought you had been taken." "We were upstairs when they attacked," Ion said. "We hid on the roof." Ki finally lowered the gun and turned back to face Ion. By the look on Ki's face he was seeing Jez's sweaty, injured face for the first time |
since the attack. The dedication to the fight slipped from his body and he looked no longer like a warrior but just Ki, a sixteen-year-old boy. He reached his hands out to Jez and the small man fell forward into his clumsy embrace.
"Help him," Ki ordered, lowering Jez onto a chair. "What happened?" Bella asked, taking Jez's arm gingerly between her aged fingers. "One of the other-worlders shot him," Ki said, his voice thick and dark. "You mean they saw you?" Amma almost screamed. "I killed it," he shot back. "And where is the body?" "On the roof." But Ki was no longer listening to Amma. Instead he was watching Jez, who had turned to look up at him. Their eyes melted together. I'm so glad I didn't lose you, their faces said if not their voices. "Can you help Jez?" Ki asked, finally breaking the stare. "Yes," Bella answered softly. "I just need to take the bullet out." Apologetically, she looked down at Jez. "This is going to hurt." "Just do it," Jez whispered between clenched teeth. With unclean scissors, Bella plunged into the wound, twisted against the skin, broke yet more, made fresh blood course down Jez's arm. He moaned out but did not move. Finally, when he was sure he was about to faint, the prodding and tearing stopped and Bella removed the cold instruments from his arm. Between the hands was a green shell. It was unbroken; the poison had not reached Jez's bloodstream. |